What It Means To Be Free
by IcarusWing
Summary: America's feelings about the Revolutionary War. What happens years later when he encounters England on the Fourth of July? Full summary inside. Threeshot songfic. Companion to If It Means A Lot To You. Rated T for alcohol consumption. No pairings. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey everybody! I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters, and I don't own any of the dialogue the dialogue for this chapter. It all comes from Hetalia Axis Powers. This is a three shot song fic about America during the Revolutionary War. Chapter 1, based on 'Numb' be Linkin Park, is about what happens during the war, chapter 2 is about his thoughts years later, and chapter 3 is about him visiting England on the Fourth of July. A companion to this set in England's POV will be released when this is done. If you want to review, I don't care if you don't like the fic, but if you do, then tell me why so I can make the next chapter better. If you're just going to say "ur fic sux," then don't bother. Again, I own nothing, the lyrics belong to Linkin Park. Enjoy! (^^)**

"_Hey, what's with the suit? It looks expensive. Too bad. I'll never wear it."_

"_You should. Dressing Like a pauper isn't in fashion. I refuse to be seen with you if you're not dressed properly."_

"_What's the matter? I think the way I dress is perfectly acceptable!"_

"_See? Dressed like that, it's hard to believe you're the same person!"_

"_Sure, but this isn't comfortable! I guess I'll just wear it on special occasions, then."_

**ooo**

_I'm tired of being what you want me to be_

_Feeling so faithless_

_Lost under the surface_

The rain was pouring over the battle field.

The war had been harsh. Many a good soldier had fallen, and America was growing tired. After all that, though, it was finally coming to an end.

_Don't know what you're expecting of me_

_Put under the pressure_

_Of walking in your shoes_

"Hey, England! All I want is my freedom!" Each word hurt as he said them, but it had to be done. He couldn't let this go on any longer. "I'm no longer a child, nor your little brother. From now on, consider me independent!"

England grit his teeth, steeling himself. Then, he charged, bayonet aimed for his brother's face in a last attempt to restrain him.

His musket was blocked by America's, but he sent it flying, leaving America defenseless. England just stood there, though, breathing heavily. "I won't allow it! You idiot! Why can't you follow anything through to the end?"

_Every step that I take_

_Is another mistake to you_

The soldiers behind America took aim, prepared to defend their leader, but England stood alone. The outcome was clear.

The war was over.

Mixed emotions swirled inside America as England realized this and lowered his gun. "There's no way I can shoot you," he said, "I can't." His gun fell, hitting the muddy earth. Then he too hit the ground, head in his hands.

_I've become so numb_

_I can't feel you there_

This hadn't been what America wanted. He hadn't meant for this to happen, hadn't meant to cause such turmoil. All he'd wanted was his freedom.

He hadn't known how much that meant to England.

_I've become so tired_

_So much more aware_

It had to be done, though. He couldn't go on living by his brother's rules.

_I'm becoming this _

_All I want to do_

England hadn't understood. Rules dragged him down. He had to break away in order to grow as a nation.

_Is be more like me_

_And be less like you_

"Why? Damnit, why? It's not fair!"

_Can't you see that you're smothering me?_

_Holding to tightly _

_Afraid to lose control_

America stood still, not allowing himself to show any emotion as he gazed down at England. "You know why," he said. "What happened?" he asked, sorrow coloring his voice. "I remember when you were great."

_Cause everything that you thought I would be_

_Has fallen apart_

_Right in front of you_

America could still remember that day. England had looked so big back then. The hand that reached toward him had promised that he'd be safe. His green eyes swore that he'd be loved.

_Every step that I take _

_Is another mistake to you_

"_Let's go home."_

_And every second I waste_

_Is more than I can take_

_ "Okay!"_

_I've become so numb_

_I can't feel you there_

_ "Then I'll call you big brother!_

_I've become so tired_

_So much more aware_

_ "England is fine. That would be good enough."_

_I'm becoming this_

_All I want to do_

America had never wanted anyone to get hurt.

_Is be more like me_

_And be less like you_

But it was for the greater good.

_And I know_

_I might end up failing too_

But what he wanted to know…

_But I know_

_That you were just like me_

_With someone disappointed in you_

…was why it caused so much pain.

_I've become so numb_

_I can't feel you there_

But as America stood there, he knew he couldn't allow himself to regret anything. He had to look toward the future, not back at the past.

_I'm tired of being what you want me to be_

So he walked away and didn't look back.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Subscribe for the next chapter! Also, if you need any beta reading done, I'm always available.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, I have no idea what took me so long. For those of you who care, the next chapter's already written, so it won't take nearly as long... If this chapter seems a bit repetitive, it's supposed to. The song belongs to Green Day. Enjoy~! **

* * *

"_Hahaha, I feel like I've become an old man."_

"_You've become an adult."_

**ooo**

_Summer has come and passed_

_The innocent can never last_

_Wake me up when September ends_

America sat on the bench for a long time that evening after abandoning his storage shed cleaning.

Clouds had been gathering all afternoon, and they rumbled overhead, threatening to burst at any moment. He gazed up at them, toying with his empty coffee mug as he thought back on the memories he'd unearthed earlier in the day.

_Like my fathers come to pass_

_Seven years has gone so fast_

_Wake me up when September ends_

He remembered those little toy soldiers, small but fierce, determined to win whatever battle their owner decided to have them fight. He and England had played with them when ever England had time to visit.

He remembered meals, tenderly prepared. He'd always look forward to those the most, that first welcome back dinner, the big Sunday breakfasts.

He remembered the good times, but he also remembered the bad.

_Here comes the rain again_

_Falling from the stars_

He remembered when England had become cold, controlling.

He remembered the arguments, the yelling.

_Drenched in my pain again_

_Becoming who we are_

He remembered the war.

_As my memory rests _

_But never forgets what I lost_

America remembered how much leaving England had hurt.

_Wake me up when September ends_

Back then, America hadn't known why everything had changed so suddenly, but he realized now that he'd known for a long time. His youth had been a lonely and scary at his brother's house, but England had been the light in the darkness, the hero that could banish any monster under the bed. But when he wasn't there, America had to learn how to be his own hero, to fight the imaginary forces of evil without anyone to protect him. He learned to become independent, and when England returned after his longest absence yet, America realized that he didn't need him anymore.

His brother was holding him back.

And England just couldn't accept that.

To him, America would always be 'little brother.'

And America wanted that to change.

_Summer has come and passed_

_The innocent can never last_

_Wake me up when September ends_

They'd fought, they'd fought, and they'd fought.

And America finally proved that he wasn't a child any more.

He was big, and he was strong.

_Ring out the bells again_

_Like they did when spring began_

He could be a hero, too.

_Wake me up when September ends_

Drops of water began to fall from the sky, falling onto his glasses and soaking his clothes, but America didn't even notice. He was too immersed in memories of his brother, half wishing there had been no need for a Revolutionary War, that he and England could have stayed with each other, forever.

_Here comes the rain again_

_Falling from the stars_

Happy.

_Drenched in my pain again_

_Becoming who we are_

He laughed shakily, taking off his glasses and wiping the rain from his face. He was being stupid. He couldn't regret the War now, after all these years. That was just silly. It seemed he really was becoming old, after all.

_As my memory rests_

_But never forgets what I lost_

America stood, ready to go back inside, but stopped suddenly as the lightning flashed and thunder boomed simultaneously. He could have sworn he heard a voice in the thunder, and saw a shape on the clouds.

_Wake me up when September ends_

England, as big as he was on that day, reaching down a hand.

_Summer has come and passed_

"_Let's go home."_

_The innocent can never last_

"_Okay!"_

_Wake me up when September ends_

It was gone as soon as it appeared, but America could hear the voice echoing in his mind.

_Like my fathers come and passed_

He sat back on the bench, putting his head in his hand, and for the first time in three hundred years…

_Twenty years has gone so fast_

He cried.

_Wake me up when September ends_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Last chapter~ I'm going to write one in England's point of view soon. School will be out in a couple of days and I'll be free all summer to write~ ^^ In any case, I don't own Hetalia, though I wouldn't mind owning Iggy... :3 What, did I just say that out loud? XD And the lyrics belong to Linkin Park. Well, enjoyyyy.**

* * *

_I dreamed I was missing_

_You were so scared_

_But no one would listen_

_Cause no one else cared_

There should have been fireworks.

As America gazed up at the British sky, he pictured his own, the red and white and blue lights out shining the stars on this special day.

Here, there were only clouds.

_After my dreaming_

_I woke with this fear_

_What am I leaving_

_When I'm done here?_

This Fourth of July hadn't been the big celebration it was supposed to be. The whole night, America had been drowning in memories of life at England's house.

A painted soldier.

An old suit.

A damaged musket.

Hadn't they all been for his happiness?

_So if you're asking me_

_I want you to know_

He still dreamt about those times, how happy England always was to see him again, how sad he'd seem to be to leave. How he'd smile when America ate his food and called it delicious.

How his face looked when he'd dropped to his knees and given up.

_When my time comes_

_Forget the wrong that I've done_

_Help me leave behind some_

_Reasons to be missed_

Even though it was passed midnight, he'd flown out to England's house. America had to know what he'd been wondering for years.

How did England spend the Fourth of July every year?

_Don't resent me_

_And when you're feeling empty_

_Keep me in your memory_

Back then, all he'd thought about was what he didn't have, and he'd blamed it on his brother.

He didn't consider that it may have been for the best.

_Leave out all the rest_

That it may have been because England loved him.

_Leave out all the rest_

England hadn't been at his house, so America was wandering the city. He'd checked out all the most popular restaurants and bars in London, but he had been conspicuously absent in each.

What if that was the point?

_Don't be afraid_

What if he wanted to be alone?

_I've taken my beating_

After all these years…

_I've shared what I've been_

…was it still that bad?

_I'm strong on the surface_

He had to find out.

_Not all the way through_

America had been checking around the most depilated pubs, hoping to find his brother.

_I've never been perfect_

So far, he'd hoped in vain.

_But neither have you_

Until now.

Feeling the weight of the package on his arm, America pushed open the door of the grimiest pub on the wrong side of the tracks.

There were few occupants. Two young men playing a decidedly shady game of Go Fish. An older woman on her fourth glass of whiskey. The scantily dressed bar tender. And…

England.

_So if you're asking me_

_I want you to know_

He was sitting at a table in the back of the room, sipping a Scotch and staring off into the distance.

He was wearing the same expression as on that day.

_When my time comes_

_Forget the wrong that I've done_

_Help me leave behind some_

_Reasons to be missed_

America walked up to him, wondering how he'd be accepted.

_Don't resent me_

_And when you're feeling empty_

_Keep me in your memory_

He walked up to the table and sat down, placing the picnic basket on the table. "Hey," he said.

_Leave out all the rest_

_Leave out all the rest_

England started. "_America?"_ he asked, as though he couldn't believe his eyes.

America smiled like he did every day, as though the most important thing on his mind was his next burger. "I thought you'd be lonely, so I decided we should have a picnic," he said, cheerfully, as though it was just any other day.

_Forgetting_

_All the hurt inside_

_You've learned to hide so well_

"A picnic in a bar at two o'clock in the morning?" he asked. "That's so… American."

Even though his lips smiled, his eyes remained cold.

_Pretending_

_Someone else can come_

_And save me from myself_

America laughed, too loudly for his surroundings and for his mood. "I brought all your favorite foods," he said, signaling to the bar tender to bring over another round of drinks and unloading the wicker basket. "Fish and chips, steak done medium rare, just like you like it, blood pudding, scones, crumpets, broiled potatoes…" he went on, removing each item as he spoke along with plates and silver ware.

England eyed the food warily. "You didn't use my recipe, did you?" he asked.

This time, America's laugh was genuine. "No," he said, "I asked France for help."

England sighed, relieved. "Good. It'll be edible." After a pause, he added, "Just don't tell him I said that."

America snorted, and England sighed. "So. Why are you here?"

America hesitated. "I told you. I figured you'd be lonely."

"Why aren't you celebrating?"

_I can't be who you are_

America waited for the bar maid, who sniffed at the sight of all the food they wouldn't be paying for, to leave before answering. "I decided to clean out my storage shed yesterday," he said pinky tracing around the rim of his glass. "I didn't feel like celebrating."

"What'd you find?" asked England, his voice emotionless as he stared somewhere over America's shoulder.

"Try the food."

England did. It was superb, of course. And so familiar.

America sighed, and dug into the food of his childhood.

_When my time comes_

_Forget the wrong that I've done_

_Help me leave behind some_

_Reasons to be missed_

"Remember those wooden soldiers you made me?" he asked. "I still have them."

England's brows rose into his fair hair. "They lasted all those years?"

"I always kept them nice," said America, smiling fondly. Many a lonely afternoon had been passed arranging them in mock battle strategies and staging wars when he was a boy, never knowing he'd use the knowledge against their maker.

_Don't resent me_

_And when you're feeling empty_

_Keep me in your memory_

"I always liked the one with the mustache best," he continued, reminiscing. England stayed silent, not knowing how to respond to such a pronouncement after years of pretending it had never happened.

"I miss your house," said America suddenly.

_Leave out all the rest_

"Idiot," said England. "You could still be there."

"I don't regret what I did," said America, his tone as serious as it had been on that day, "but I still miss it. I miss you."

England looked up, his eyes softening as a half-smile lit up his features. "Then call me sometime, stupid."

"I will," he said softly.

They sat for a while in silence, sipping their drinks and picking at food. After a bit, America stood. "Hey, you keep the rest," he said, meticulously repacking the picnic basket and fishing out a wad of British pounds he kept for occasions like these. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back. "Let's do this again sometime, 'kay?"

England smiled, and in that moment, America remembered the older brother who had taken him into his home when he was small, brought him toys and anomalies from the Continent, played hide-and-seek with when he came home to see him.

The brother who'd fought for him to stay.

"I'd like that," he said, and America went out the door.

_Leave out all the rest_


End file.
